


Five Minutes and Breakfast in Bed

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: 30 Days of Domestic Fluff Challenge, Established Relationship, Fluff, Guest starring Gigi the dog (chapter 13), M/M, With a side serving of Bobo/Pippo (chapter 11), intimacy issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-05 11:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15862650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: Andrea is retired and back in Italy. It’s a new situation for them both.





	1. #1 Waking Up Together

**Author's Note:**

> Closely related to my [previous Pirlo/Monto fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11047824), though it's not necessary to read that one to get this, I guess.

It’s the first time Andrea has woken up before Riccardo since he got back.

It might not sound too bad, before you remember that he has been back in Italy for months now. Or that Riccardo used to be the one always catching the extra fifteen minutes of sleep even when technically he couldn’t afford it.

Riccardo is damn beautiful when he sleeps. It’s one of the few times when he looks completely relaxed, his subconscious taking him far beyond the mess his career has become.

Most of the time Andrea refuses to admit Riccardo’s stress as of late has anything to with him or their relationship. They’ve waited far too long to be back together to waste their time on petty drama now.

Riccardo is snuggled against Andrea’s side, one of his legs wrapped around Andrea’s hip. Andrea can feel his steady breaths against his cheek, and if he cranes his neck just a little, he can see Riccardo’s long eyelashes illuminated against his only slightly tanned skin.

Whether or not Andrea admits it, their relationship has changed since he came back to Italy.

There is the obvious difference of them practically living together now, whereas before US they were forced to have their own places and were able to stay over only occasionally due to the different schedules of their respective clubs.

Andrea still has his own place in Turin, but as a recent retiree he has little incentive to go back there unless Riccardo kicks him out.

But aside from the new living arrangements, there is also something else holding them back.

There used to be a time when every physical touch was a luxury that couldn’t be wasted, because neither of them knew when the next time would be. Then there were the times when they would cling to each other, spending every waking moment together. Hell, they used to spend their days-off lying naked in bed, just getting to know each other anew, both physically and emotionally.

Compared to those times, it feels like there is an invisible wall between them. Most of the time Andrea feels Riccardo is the one most acutely aware of it.

Of course, Riccardo is really good at pretending the wall is not there. Maybe he’s not completely conscious of it, even; but Andrea does notice the way he flinches at sudden physical contact, or how he tenses up just momentarily before relaxing into Andrea’s hugs or kisses.

And then there’s the sleeping dilemma, obviously. More often than not, Andrea has woken up to an empty bed, Riccardo’s side having long grown cold.

Riccardo says it’s because he’s too used to sleeping alone, that it has nothing to do with Andrea, and Andrea does believe him. Still, he can’t help but feel a little hurt whenever he finds Riccardo sleeping on the living room coach instead of their shared bed.

It’s all because of this that he is determined to enjoy the first morning in such a long time when he can actually wake up next to Riccardo and just take in the beauty of his sleeping partner and the warmth of his body pressed up against his.

Andrea can tell the exact moment when Riccardo wakes up without even looking at him, the soft breaths against his skin interrupted by a sudden inhale as Riccardo’s whole body tenses into awareness.

Andrea is half-expecting him to pull away and get out of bed. He closes his eyes and lets Riccardo think he’s still asleep, giving him an easy way out.

He trusts Riccardo to know he will be there once he is ready to open up and talk about the things bothering him.

He also trusts Riccardo not to go anywhere he can’t follow. It might take time to put things right, but they will handle it together. They already survived almost three years with an ocean between them, after all.

Riccardo is not getting up. He is not even pulling away from Andrea, his body slowly relaxing back into his original position. His lips brush lightly against Andrea’s cheek as if by accident, but Andrea recognizes it as fully intentional.

Finally, Andrea determines it safe to open his eyes and turn to his side facing Riccardo, arm wrapping around his waist carefully. “Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well?”

If Riccardo is surprised to find him awake, he does not show it. It strikes Andrea then that Riccardo has probably watched him sleep so many times by now that he knows immediately when he’s faking it.

“Better than in a long time.” Riccardo is rubbing the sole his foot against Andrea’s calf. He seems more relaxed than in a long time, too. “Sorry I’m such a mess.”

Andrea would kiss him if he wasn’t worried his horrible morning breath would ruin the moment. Instead, he leans in and presses their foreheads together, so close they can’t actually see each other’s eyes properly.

“At least you’re my mess, right?”

Fuck morning breath. Andrea closes the final distance between their faces and brushes Riccardo’s lips with his own. Riccardo makes a face against his lips and grumbles something about brushing his teeth. Andrea shuts him up with another kiss.

The kiss is interrupted by a yawn from Riccardo and Andrea pulls back with a chuckle. “Five more minutes?”

“More like fifteen,” Riccardo mumbles as he hides his face in the crook of Andrea’s neck and snuggles closer in effort to find more comfortable position, effectively stopping Andrea from moving away from him.

“No breakfast in bed, then?” Andrea states more than asks as he wraps both arms around Riccardo and lets him use him as his personal body pillow.

“’M not objecting.” Riccardo’s voice is so muffled against Andrea’s skin that he is more guessing than actually hearing his reply. “In fifteen minutes. Now shut your sexy mouth.”

It takes them twenty minutes before either of them says another word.

It takes them half an hour more before either of them brings up breakfast in bed again.


	2. #2 Morning Routine

Andrea has always prided himself of being a punctual person with reasonable daily routines.

Not like Pippo, whose methodical routines for _everything_ have long since tipped over to OCD.

More like Gigi, who’s spent years following daily routines set up together with his therapist back when he was struggling with depression. The kind of routines that make everyday life well-structured and help you to focus on the things that you actually want to spend your time on.

Back when he was actively playing, his morning routine was practically automated: wake up to his alarm, get up without snoozing, put the coffee maker on, take a shower, brush teeth, drink the coffee, get dressed, eat breakfast, drink more coffee, head for morning practice.

Of course, dating Riccardo in the first place had made him do some adjustments, such as setting his alarm half an hour early, just so he could enjoy a morning quickie before getting up, or even ignoring the alarm completely on the rare days when both of them had nowhere else to be.

Getting used to his old routine while in the US had taken a while, but in the end, he felt better off because of it. Sticking to the routine meant he didn’t have time to miss Riccardo in his bed, or in his house, or in his life in general.

But he did miss Riccardo. _God_ , did he miss Riccardo.

He realizes just how much he missed Riccardo only when he completely blows off a brunch meeting with his agent because Riccardo does not let him get out of bed, and Andrea can’t even bring himself to be angry at him.

If sacrificing his precious morning routine in favour of fighting off a Riccardo-shaped octopus every single morning is the price he must pay for having him back in his bed, well-rested and content, then Andrea is more than willing to pay it.

Besides, it’s not like there’s anything Andrea would rather spend his time on.


	3. #4 Night In

“So, we have La Liga or Premier League,” Andrea lists off as he shuffles through the channels, “Titanic – again – a rerun of House, some talk show… Or we could just watch something on Netflix?”

“What episode of House?” Riccardo asks, sitting down next to Andrea. He is drying his hair with a light blue towel Andrea found from one of the boxes still waiting to be unpacked in the corner of his apartment.

They rarely spend time in Turin anymore, since – well – Riccardo’s apartment in Milan is fully furnished and there are no forgotten cardboard boxes covering every surface of the place.

“Shit if I know. You’re the one who’s got them all memorized.” Andrea reaches over and takes the towel from Riccardo, throwing it carelessly over the closest box. Then he tugs on Riccardo’s shoulder, and Riccardo needs no further command to shift closer and settle comfortably against Andrea’s side, head pillowed against his shoulder.

Water from his still damp hair soaks through the fabric of Andrea’s shirt. He doesn’t complain, only lifts his hand to pet Riccardo’s hair and comb through the tangled strands.

“Oh, it’s the one with the psychopath,” Riccardo hums absent-mindedly after only a few moments of following the episode. He pushes his head against Andrea’s hand like a cat, wordlessly demanding him to keep going. Andrea wouldn’t be surprised if he started purring.

“You’re gonna have a bedhead before even going to bed if you keep this up,” Andrea berates Riccardo softly, but doesn’t stop his caresses, using the tips of his fingers to massage Riccardo’s scalp. Riccardo lets out a soft moan and just closes his eyes without acknowledging the teasing comment.

The TV goes unnoticed for a long time as Andrea focuses all his attention on Riccardo, moving the massage from his scalp to his neck and shoulders, savouring every little sound that falls from his lips. He supposes it’s not a big loss as the episode comes to an end, since Riccardo really does have the whole series committed to memory.

“So, I was thinking,” Andrea begins quietly when another episode of some American show he doesn’t recognize starts on the screen. Riccardo tenses up immediately, as if expecting bad news, but Andrea’s hands soothe him into relaxing once again before he tries again, “I was thinking, I should probably just move these boxes to your place as they are, since it’s not like I’m ever going to unpack them here.”

He first thinks Riccardo did not hear him at all, since there’s no reply, but when he looks down to Riccardo, sharp blue eyes meet his immediately.

“Are you saying you want to move in?”

“It depends. Would you let me?”

Riccardo sits up so he can properly look Andrea in the eye. Andrea’s hands fall off his shoulders and for a second he considers taking back his words. Maybe it’s too soon. Or too late, more likely.

Riccardo studies his face in silence, like he is trying to figure out whether he is being serious or not. They have talked about moving in together before, but it has always been in a joking tone, offhand comments neither of them has stopped to consider for real. But there’s always been a seed of truth hidden there, at least for Andrea – and until this moment, he always thought it was the same for Riccardo.

“You’re not joking,” Riccardo finally concludes after what feels like an eternity to Andrea.

“No, I’m not.” Andrea reaches out to push a now dry strand of hair behind Riccardo’s ear.

“I—,” Riccardo cuts himself off, probably to reconsider what he wants to say. Andrea cannot tell whether it’s a good or a bad sign. “—I think I need to kiss you now.”

So, apparently good one, then, Andrea decides as he suddenly has a face full of Riccardo.

“I love you,” Riccardo whispers against his lips, both hands cupping Andrea’s face to make sure he doesn’t try and pull away, and then he continues his assault on Andrea’s lips. It’s probably the closest to an actual ‘yes’ Andrea is going to get tonight.

They’ll have all the time in the world to figure out the logistics later.

“I’m really happy you’re back, Andrea.” Riccardo tells him when they’ve finally settled back down on the couch, Riccardo’s back pressed against Andrea’s chest and Andrea’s arms wrapped around his waist. Riccardo has Andrea’s hands tugged between his own, fingers twisting around Andrea’s in what could be a nervous tick or just an innocent habit of someone not used to holding hands.

“So am I, Riccardo,” Andrea responds and presses a gentle kiss against Riccardo’s temple. _“So am I.”_


	4. #7 Exercising

“Hey, wanna go out for a jog?”

Riccardo looks up from his book with raised eyebrows, as if silently judging Andrea’s sanity.

“I run every day at training. You really think I’m gonna spend one of my evening’s off to do some more?”

Andrea shrugs. It was worth a try. “Fair enough. See you in a bit.”

He starts for the door, only to be followed by Riccardo who suddenly seems much more interested in his newly acquired interest in exercise.

“What’s going on? And don’t tell me you just woke up today feeling like running for no reason.”

“What’s wrong with that? I used to do that every day at practice too, remember?”

Riccardo eyes him suspiciously. “Yeah, and you kept complaining about it. Only means to an end, wasn’t it?”

Riccardo knows him too well. If Andrea gives him a chance, he is probably going to figure out Andrea has been spending unnaturally long times staring at his mirror image wondering where his abs have disappeared.

Riccardo clicks his tongue and crosses his arms against his chest. He probably thinks he looks menacing. Andrea thinks he looks adorable. “So, who’ve you been talking to?”

Andrea attempts to dissuade him with a smile. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“Was it Niccoló?” How does Riccardo do that? “You do realize he’s a teenager, right? _And_ still pissed off at you for forcing him to leave the US just when he’d found the girl of his dreams.”

Andrea gives up, because apparently every important person in his life is in on a conspiracy against him. “I didn’t know you’ve been talking to him.”

Riccardo chuckles. “You’re the one who wanted me to get to know your kids. And as I said, he’s still pissed off, so it’s not like he’s gonna talk to you. Aside from insulting your figure, apparently.”

“Well, he’s not completely wrong,” Andrea admits. His hand is resting on his belly, acutely aware of the softness where he used to be able to feel his muscles.

Riccardo rolls his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “First of all, your figure’s just fine.” He steps into Andrea’s personal space and presses his hand above Andrea’s on his abdomen. “Second of all, if you’re gonna start exercising, why on earth would you choose something as boring as jogging?”

He brushes his lips against Andrea’s playfully, but pulls back before Andrea can return the kiss. His hand is sliding down Andrea’s belly and dipping under the waistband of his sweatpants. “I hear sex’s a great way to burn calories, too.”

“You know that’s a myth. Unless you plan on doing it for hours.” Andrea is not actually protesting, mind you.

“We can always try.” Riccardo’s lips are only a breath away from Andrea’s. Taunting. Challenging. “Unless you’d rather go out and got caught by the paparazzi wasting your time on the track?”

Andrea closes the gap between their lips. Riccardo is laughing into the kiss.


	5. #10 Hair

It would be the understatement of the year to say Riccardo _likes_ Andrea’s hair.

It’s his favourite feature of Andrea’s by far, his love bordering on possessiveness.

Andrea’s hair is thick and soft – it feels even softer than it looks, something Riccardo never thought possible before he actually got to touch – and no matter how little attention Andrea pays to his own hair, it still manages to always look perfect, not a single strand out of place.

He used to be so jealous of Andrea for his luxurious hair, his own curls and their inability to stay as he wants them to never having been up to par, but once he got past that – let’s just say he’s been more than happy to make sure everyone knows Andrea’s hair is his to touch. _Only his._

It takes conscious effort to stop himself from lashing out whenever Andrea goes to the barber’s, even now, even after they’ve been together for years.

Or maybe it’s worse now, after not being able to touch Andrea and his gorgeous hair for such a long time. Riccardo can’t quite remember how things used to be before.

He takes every chance he gets to play with Andrea’s hair: ruffling it the first thing in the morning, helping blow-dry it after shower, kissing the top of his head when walking past the coach in the living room, brushing it while they hang out watching Netflix, pulling on it during sex…

It’s not unusual for Andrea to joke about how Riccardo would rather have a relationship with his hair only, and the rest of him is just extra baggage he must put up with. If Riccardo’s protests fall short, it’s only because he’s busy tugging a strand of hair behind Andrea’s ear.

Andrea’s hair has also proven to be a great distraction during the long nights Riccardo spends awake in their bed, unable to sleep because he keeps dreaming of an empty bed, of Andrea being back in the US, of him never coming back.

Needless to say, Andrea is Not Impressed™ when he wakes up in the morning only to find his hair braided into a bunch of tiny plaits sticking to every direction imaginable.

Riccardo only kisses his protests away and takes the chance to thread his fingers through his partner’s hair again, gently unbraiding the locks one by one, until Andrea’s hair is free again, perfect as ever.


	6. #11 Coffee and/or Tea

 

One might think that after three months of living together, they should be able to anticipate each other’s needs.

One might think that after three months of living together, they’d have a system set up for all the daily chores.

One might think that after three months of living together, they wouldn’t be fighting like little kids because _someone_ forgot to get the coffee while doing the groceries.

“There was one thing on the list. One!” Andrea rarely loses his cool. But when it comes to his precious caffeine, oh, _it is on_. “Even my kids know to get a new package from the store when they’re the ones using the last of the previous one.”

“Well _excuse me_ ,” Riccardo shows no signs of shame, looking down at Andrea, using their height difference to his advantage. As if Andrea is the one being unreasonable. “I’ve never had to shop for someone else. You’re the one who used to be married, you can’t just expect me to suddenly adjust to your norms.”

“I’ve been here for three months! That should be long enough to adjust!”

The glare Riccardo fixes at him makes Andrea feel small. “And you were _not here_ for three _years_. Aren’t you supposed to be the genius? Do the math!”

That shuts Andrea up, if only because he had stupidly thought they had put that particular argument behind them.

Riccardo in pinching the bridge of his nose, his posture saying all Andrea needs to know about the level of frustration he’s trying to hold back.

Maybe they really should have a proper talk about Andrea’s time away before trying to move forward.

“There’s tea in the cupboard. Tea has caffeine,” Riccardo tells him in a subdued voice. He’s not looking at Andrea.

Andrea has no time to come up with a proper answer – _it’s not about the caffeine, it’s about the coffee, it’s about the art of making it_ – before Riccardo walks out on him, front door slamming closed after him. Andrea can hear the car engine starting and then Riccardo is gone.

One might think that after three months of living together, their first official crisis would not be caused by something as silly as coffee.

Andrea finds the teabags and makes himself a cup. Then another. He swears it’s not about the caffeine, but with every sip of the dark liquid he feels himself relaxing more.

And with relaxation comes the anxiousness.

Riccardo is not picking up his phone. After four ignored calls, Andrea finds Riccardo’s phone on the nightstand, untouched since the previous night.

Andrea wants to go out and find him, but at the same time he’s worried Riccardo might come back and think Andrea’s abandoned him. Again. So, he stays put, every passing minute wishing he could take back everything he said. It was only coffee, not the end of the world, for fuck’s sake!

It feels like an eternity before the front door opens again with its familiar creaking sound.

“Sorry I took so long,” Riccardo calls out, not looking up as he takes off his shoes, thus not noticing Andrea is already standing at the hallway entrance, only a few steps away from him. “I had to drive all the way to Porta Nuova to get your brand since all places around here’re clos—”

The package of coffee beans falls from his grasp when Andrea tackles him into a tight hug. Andrea doesn’t care how it looks, he is just relieved Riccardo is back. Is this how Riccardo felt when Andrea left Italy?

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers against Riccardo’s hair, kissing his temple before tightening his hold even more. “I’m not going anywhere, so you don’t need to worry about that, okay? You can tell me exactly what you’re thinking. You won’t scare me away.”

One might think that after three months of living together, it’s something that should go without saying.

Riccardo is crying against his shoulder. Or maybe it’s Andrea who’s crying.

One might think wrong.


	7. #12 Cooking Together

Whoever said that cooking as a couple is romantic has obviously never stepped foot in the kitchen of the newly-established Pirlo–Montolivo household.

“You finished with the onions yet? They need to go in first to soften the taste.”

It’s not really about the cooking skills per se – for two professional athletes who never really had to learn how to take care of themselves, both Riccardo and Andrea are surprisingly decent cooks on their own.

 “Shit! Did you put salt in this already? I think we need to start over.”

It’s definitely not about lack of teamwork – they play team sports, after all, so sharing the responsibility comes as a second nature for them both. If they were bad team players, neither of them would’ve chosen football as their sport to begin with.

“Can you pass me the wine? No, not that one; that’s for drinking. Get the opened bottle from the fridge.”

It’s not even about their tendency to drink all the wine meant for cooking, although that’s only thanks to Andrea’s insistence on keeping cooking and drinking wines separate, thus resulting in them destroying two bottles of wine amid cooking instead of just one – one by actually cooking, other by drinking.

“Oi, get you pretty little butt out of my way or we’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Oh yes, there’s that.

“Wanna make me?”

Every single time they try and have a nice, cosy, home-cooked meal for the two of them, they end up getting distracted long before finishing anything.

“Have I told you before that your apron is really fucking distracting?”

“You sure it’s not what’s underneath it?”

Well, at least they’ll always have the wine.

“Come here, you. I’ll show you distracting.”

And as professional athletes who can afford ordering take out every single night, who the fuck bothers with cooking, anyways?

“Is the sauce burning again?”

“ _Fuck!_ Just turn off the stove, will you?”


	8. #15 Family Visits

It starts off simple: “I want you to meet my parents.”

Andrea agrees to Riccardo’s request easily. It makes sense, even: they are already living together in all but name – the only reason for Andrea to keep his official address in Turin is to keep the press off their track – and Riccardo’s parents have known about them since before Andrea left for the US. It was only a matter of time before his new in-laws started asking about him.

Andrea has always been good with in-laws, especially the mothers. Or at least he was, back when he was still married. Somehow, this feels different. It feels like something that might change his life forever.

Meeting Riccardo’s family means it’s official. For real.

The closer they get to the agreed date, the more anxious Andrea grows. By the time they’re sitting in Riccardo’s car, parked on the driveway of his parents’ house, Andrea is ready to bolt and run.

“Relax, it’s gonna be fine,” Riccardo tells him, voice veiled with faked confidence – it’s what tells Andrea his partner is every bit as nervous as he is. “It’s just a dinner. My dad’s a great cook. You’re gonna like them.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Andrea grumbles and fixes his tie for the umpteenth time since they left home. Riccardo had told him to dress casually – _“it’s just normal dinner on a weekday, nothing fancy”_ – but Andrea had insisted on putting on a shirt and tie at least, not wanting to give a bad impression.

He knows Riccardo values his mother’s opinion above everyone else’s. He remembers the first time they really talked about their sexualities; Riccardo had revealed his mother was the first person he came out to as a teenager. Andrea can’t relate: he still hasn’t come out to his own parents.

Riccardo reaches over and squeezes Andrea’s hand gently. “They’re gonna love you, just like I do. You’ll see.”

They sit in silence for a while longer, holding hands and gathering their courage before going in.

Finally, Riccardo offers him a hesitant smile and lets go of his hand, opening the car door and stepping out. Andrea follows suit after a moment’s hesitation. Moment of truth. He’s about to find out just how painful all his future Christmas dinners are going to be.

“Thanks for doing this. It means a lot to me,” Riccardo tells him as they reach the porch. Andrea forces himself to smile in response.

Riccardo leans his forehead against Andrea’s and brushes their lips together briefly. It does more to alleviate Andrea’s nervousness than any of the earlier words. “You know I wouldn’t make you do this unless I was sure we’re in this for the long haul, right? I just want to show you off to them. Show them there’s no need to worry about me anymore.”

This time Andrea’s smile is genuine. He pulls Riccardo into another kiss, whispering against his lips, “Let’s do this, then.”

He reflexively jumps half a foot back, putting a respectable distance between them, as the door suddenly opens, and Riccardo’s mother greets them with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile.

She hugs Riccardo first and then Andrea, too, like they were old friends. She does not comment on what she might have seen when she first opened the door, but the shrewd smile on her lips says everything Andrea needs to know.

Riccardo takes after her a lot, Andrea realizes immediately, and against all odds it makes him breathe out a sigh of relief, nervousness finally bleeding out of him – even though getting caught kissing on the porch like teenagers was definitely not the kind of first impression he was going for.


	9. #20 A Heated Argument

For two highly opinionated people, some might find it odd to hear Andrea and Riccardo have never been one of those couples that argues and makes up on daily basis.

They have disagreements, sure – they come from vastly different backgrounds, which in turn means they disagree on all basic matters, from politics and religion to how the other takes their coffee or loads the dishwasher – but between Andrea’s knack of always finding the right words to say and Riccardo’s tendency to bottle things up in order to avoid conflict, they’ve managed to find a steady ground on which to build their relationship.

 

_“So, it’s a perfect match?” Angela once asks Riccardo when the kids are staying over, while their father is out getting pizza. “You’re like soulmates.”_

_Riccardo only smiles at her and offers a noncommittal, “I guess so.”_

 

 

It’s a far cry from a perfect match, Riccardo would be the first to admit it – unless it’s your partner’s adorable preteen daughter asking, obviously – but if pushed, Riccardo might agree with the soulmate part. It’s been years since he first accepted that there’s no one else but Andrea for him, no matter how mismatched they might appear at times.

And they are. Mismatched.

The reason they don’t argue is not because they’re living in ‘perfect harmony’, or that they handle their disagreements in an adult manner that leaves no room for arguments.

The reason they don’t argue is because they _can’t_. They never learned how to.

Riccardo has always held his opinions close, unwilling to engage in debates or voice his dissatisfaction out loud. It’s how he was raised: turn the other cheek, shut up and smile when there’s something you’re not agreeing with, control your anger and use that energy for something more productive. Except he doesn’t use that energy, he just collects it inside him until it becomes too much to bear and his carefully crafted house of cards comes tumbling down.

Andrea, on the other hand, has never been afraid to voice his opinions, but he hides them behind the thin veil of jokes and pranks. Furthermore, Andrea always assumes he’s the one in the right, and he’s so good at reading and manipulating people that the results of his arguments are always predetermined from the get go. There’s no point in arguing with him because he always knows what you’re going to say before you open your mouth.

Riccardo finds it infuriating – always has – but instead of calling Andrea out on it, he just smiles and shrugs it off in faked exasperation. It’s to keep the peace, he tells himself. It’s what he needs to do to keep Andrea from walking out on him.

 

 

_“But if you don’t argue, aren’t you missing out on the make-up sex too?” Gigi asks Andrea one night over pints of beer. “I mean, I know arguing sucks and all, but it’s part of a healthy relationship, isn’t it?”_

_“Makes me wonder about_ your _relationships,” Andrea murmurs into his beer, one eyebrow raised in obvious challenge. They leave the topic there, because they both know it’s a question too loaded for a casual friends’ night out._

 

Andrea used to push more. When they first got involved, he used to test Riccardo’s limits, poking until he got a rise out of him.

Back then, it felt like the only way to get an honest reaction out of him – and honesty was exactly what Andrea was aiming for, because Riccardo might be one of the only people Andrea has ever met who he absolutely cannot read.

Except when he succeeded and they did argue, it did not end in honest heart-to-heart and amazing make-up sex – it ended up in Riccardo’s tears, banging doors, and radio-silence that sometimes could last for weeks.

So, Andrea stopped pushing, instead letting Riccardo take his time and open up on his own terms. And open up he did, slowly but surely, one layer at a time.

It’s one of the things Andrea loves most about Riccardo: that there’s still so much more to discover after all these years they have spent getting to know each other.

 

 

_“No, Andrea, I’m not listening! I’m sick of listening your fucking excuses! You might be able to manipulate everyone else around you, but don’t you dare to bring that bullshit into my house!”_

_“Your house? Don’t you mean_ our _house?”_

_“You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to just waltz back into my life after three years and start moulding me into this perfect little wife just because you hate being alone.”_

_“But you hate it too! That’s the whole point: we both hated being apart, so why’re you pushing me away now that we can finally be together?”_

_“It didn’t stop you from leaving, did it? You’re always the one leaving, over and over and over again. And I’m just stuck here waiting for you, because we both know I can’t function without you. You’ve made sure of that.”_

_“But I came back, didn’t I? I came back for you. Every. Single. Time.”_

_“And you think that makes it all up, huh?”_

 

 

Then there are the times when it all becomes too much, and everything just blows up in their faces. It’s not often – thank God – and it usually starts from something non-existent: a misplaced frying pan, a forgotten coffee package, a missed dinner with the in-laws, a wrong word at a wrong time…

But once it begins, once in a blue moon, it’s always ugly and heated and ends in tears. It’s not one of those lover’s spats that help clear the air. They have too much baggage for something like that, too many wounds that keep getting ripped open by careless words and bleeding over their freshly fixed relationship.

Every new argument leaves them exhausted and wounded, suppressed feelings forcefully ripped out into the open, raw and hurt and so, so scared that this was the final straw, that this time they went too far and broke something for good.

They both hate arguing because it brings out the worst in them – Riccardo’s insecurity and Andrea’s arrogance, both their stubbornness and pride, and all the painful truths they have left unsaid over the years. It brings out their most primal fear of losing each other to the world that has been against them from the start.

Neither of them ever leaves, because neither of them can stand the idea of losing the other.

Instead, they will yell until they’re both out of words, out of energy, out of rage. There is no make-up sex, because they’re both too drained by the time one of them finally gives in and pulls the other into a protective embrace, whispering apologies and promises and sweet nothings, crying until they are both out of tears.

And they will both keep those promises close at heart, terrified the next time will be the last. But at the same time, they trust it won’t be, because mismatched as they are, they still believe they’re made for each other.


	10. #22 Picnics

“This is ridiculous. Can’t you just tell me where we’re going?”

Riccardo has never been big on surprises, Andrea remembers it from the time before their relationship, when Gigi insisted on organizing a surprise birthday party for him. It had taken combined effort of Pazzini and Gilardino to convince him to join the celebration, and even then, they only managed by making Riccardo feel guilty for wasting all the effort his friends had put into the party.

Apparently, Riccardo also does not respond well to being blindfolded before driving him to a mystery location, but fortunately Andrea has learned the magic of persuading his partner since they became involved. That didn’t stop Riccardo from complaining all the way to their destination, unfortunately.

“You’re going to find out very soon.” Andrea parks the car and turns off the engine, chuckling quietly at Riccardo’s pouty face when he turns to help him get the seat belt off. “Don’t worry, I promise you’re gonna like this.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Riccardo grumbles, but he follows Andrea’s lead as he helps him out of the SUV and starts leading him towards the picnic blanket set up by Angela.

The whole thing had been his daughter’s idea in the first place, so if all goes south, at least Andrea can blame her for it. Riccardo adores Angela, there’s no way he is going to be mad at her even if he might sulk at Andrea for the same thing.

Andrea helps Riccardo sit down on the blanket and then finally pulls off the blindfold. It tells a lot about Riccardo’s trust in him that he did not rip it off himself as soon as they started their drive towards Brescia.

Riccardo is studying his surroundings with wide eyes, taking in the grape vines stretching into the distance all around them and the small and cosy garden they are sitting in, complete with a small artificial pond and fountain in the middle. Andrea’s grandmother’s cat is skulking around the perimeter, but other than that, it’s just the two of them.

“It’s beautiful. Is this—?” Riccardo bites his lip, like hesitant to ask the question.

Andrea smiles sheepishly and rests his hand on Riccardo’s knee. “Yeah, it’s my family’s vineyard.”

“But— Didn’t you say they’re all gonna be here this weekend for your grandmother’s birthday?” Riccardo’s eyes are wide with wonder, and Andrea can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he starts figuring out the scheme. “We can’t be here. They’re gonna find out about you.”

Andrea uses two fingers to tilt Riccardo’s chin towards him and kisses the worried rambling off his lips. Riccardo returns the kiss without much complaint, visibly relaxing as Andrea moves his hand to caress his neck, rubbing the tips of his fingers reassuringly against the soft skin.

“It’s only going to be my parents, Angela, Niccolò, and grandma tonight. The others will be here only tomorrow.” Andrea tells quietly, pecking Riccardo’s lips again gently when he opens his mouth to protest again. “It’s about time I introduced you to them. You’re my family now, as much as Angela or Niccolò.”

Riccardo looks like he wants to argue, but then he just bites his lip and looks at the picnic meal set up for them instead, complete with two bottles of wine, white and red. “It looks really good.”

“Grandma’s been teaching Angela how to cook. She was so excited she could show off her skills to you.” Andrea takes the bottle of white wine and opens it expertly, pouring Riccardo a glass and handing it to him, before pouring one for himself as well.

It’s one of the better vintage wines he’s been saving for a special occasion.

Riccardo smells the wine and meets Andrea’s gaze before taking the first sip, obviously determined to show Andrea he hasn’t forgotten the time when Andrea gave him a spontaneous lecture about the art of wine tasting. It was before Andrea moved to the US. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“It’s okay,” Riccardo says nonchalantly, sticking out his tongue when Andrea lets out a dissatisfied huff. “Sorry, it’s _delicious_ , Andrea. Happy now?”

“Only if you really mean it.” Andrea takes a sip from his own glass, smiling over the rim when Riccardo laughs out loud. It was the right call, to get Riccardo away from Milan, even if it meant practically kidnapping him. Riccardo’s been too stressed lately, to the point where Andrea could tell it wasn’t only about the two of them anymore.

If introducing Riccardo to his parents and – if everything goes well tonight – also to his whole extended family is what it takes to get him relax and forget about his club for a while, then so be it.

They eat in comfortable silence. It’s one of the things about being with Riccardo that Andrea has enjoyed since the start of their relationship – that there’s no need to fill the silences unless they actually have something to say. That’s also something that’s been lacking between them lately; the comfortable silences replaced by tense moments where they both know the other wants to say something but cannot figure out how.

It all comes down to the years they spent apart: they have too many things they left unsaid during those years, so now they’re both itching to say it all at once.

“I’ve missed this,” Riccardo says softly and shifts towards Andrea until he can lean his head against his shoulder. Andrea knows he’s only putting into words the same thing Andrea was just thinking about. “Sometimes I wonder if we lost something important while you were gone.”

Andrea brushes his lips against Riccardo’s forehead. “You still think we did?”

Riccardo is silent for a long time, but it’s not one of the uncomfortable silences, only a contemplative one. “I don’t know. Maybe?” He entwines their fingers and pulls Andrea’s hand into his lap. “But we’re here now. Maybe it means we’ve also gained something.” He lifts Andrea’s hand up to his lips and kisses his knuckles. “Maybe we needed that time apart to understand what this really means.”

Andrea hides his wistful smile into Riccardo’s hair, kissing the dark curls affectionately. He knows they are both thinking about how hard it was to be alone, when they both knew their other half was on the other side of the world, waiting, pining.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He’s lost count how many times he’s told this to Riccardo, but it always feels one time too little. He’s determined to keep saying it until Riccardo really believes him. “I love you, Riccardo.”

Riccardo meets Andrea’s eyes without lifting his head from his shoulder, his neck craned, and blue eyes trained up, looking impossibly large. “I love you, too.”

Andrea knows they have a long and stressful evening ahead of them once his parents arrive, but he decides not to worry about it just yet. What happens will happen; it will be fine as long as he has Riccardo with him.

“Did you try the chocolate cake, yet?” Andrea asks, pointing at the dark brown pastry in the centre of the blanket. “It’s grandma’s secret recipe, she never even taught it to my mother. Angela’s so proud.”

Riccardo lifts his eyebrows at the mention of Andrea’s grandmother but makes no comment, only takes a piece of cake carefully, the chocolate frosting staining his fingers immediately. He pokes Andrea’s cheek with a chocolate-y finger when he can’t hold back a chuckle, leaving a long line of frosting on his face.

“There’s no need to worry about my grandma,” Andrea tells him without further prompting. He resists the urge to wipe his face and is rewarded by Riccardo leaning in and licking off the chocolate. “She’s the only one in my family who I know will be okay with me being gay. She’s going to adore you.”

“…And the others?” Riccardo sounds like he doesn’t actually want to know.

“They will just have to deal with it.” Andrea accepts a piece of cake straight from Riccardo’s fingers, the rich taste filling all his senses, just like it did when he was just a kid being spoiled by his grandmother. “We know my kids have accepted you as part of their family. That’s enough for me. I just want the others to know it as well, so that I can stop worrying about them finding out from someone else.”

It has been brewing since he met Riccardo’s parents. He wants to be able to invite Riccardo over for family dinners, for his children’s birthdays, for family gatherings such as this one.

“Just remember, no matter what happens with my parents tonight, I’m on your side. On _our_ side.”

Riccardo feeds him another piece of cake without another word, and then covers Andrea’s mouth with his own to taste the chocolate between their tongues. Andrea takes that as a vote of confidence.


	11. #23 Double Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part also includes the OTP of all OTPs: Bobo Vieri/Pippo Inzaghi.

Bobo is in town.

This obviously means Pippo is also in town, which in turn means Andrea is bombarded by Bobo’s messages inviting him out for drinks, “for the old times’ sake”.

_“C’mon, you can bring Riccardo along too. It’ll be like a double date!”_

Saying no to Bobo has never been Andrea’s strong suit, mostly because his relentless excitement over everything is highly contagious. Not to mention during Andrea’s time in the US, Bobo had become his closest confidante, as the only other person he knew who could really understand what Andrea was going through.

Thus, Andrea finds himself saying yes to the invitation.

Riccardo isn’t hard to convince either. While Andrea knows Riccardo tends to feel insecure when spending time with Andrea’s old friends, the promise of an actual date is too tempting to turn down. Going out as a group in always more inconspicuous than when it’s just the two of them.

They meet up with Bobo and Pippo in the late afternoon to take a walk along the canals in Milan. Bobo pulls them both into a bear hug at the same time, his booming laughter sounding over the weekend crowd in the Navigli area.

He has a selfie stick with him, and he wastes no time before he takes his first photos, with Andrea squeezed against his left side and Riccardo on the right. Pippo rolls his eyes good-naturedly when Andrea glances at him over Bobo’s shoulder.

“So, how was meeting the parents?” Bobo asks as they start walking towards the restaurant – it’s one of Bobo’s, so they have best seats in the house booked for them – pulling Andrea a few paces ahead of Riccardo and Pippo, who seem to be catching up on what’s happening in Milan and Bologna.

“Well, I wasn’t disowned on the spot,” Andrea answers with a shrug, peeking over his shoulder to make sure Riccardo isn’t listening. Only when he’s certain Riccardo is engaged in his own conversation with his former coach, Andrea dares to continue, “I think they’re still in denial, though. My mom keeps referring to him as _my friend_ even now when she calls me, even though they didn’t say anything out loud when we were there.”

“Oof, that’s tough,” Bobo says much too loudly, drawing the attention of both their significant others. He offers a wide smile to Riccardo. “Hey, don’t worry about the in-laws. You should’ve seen Marina Inzaghi’s face when she first met me. I swear, it was terrifying.”

“And your complete lack of tact definitely didn’t help,” Pippo interrupts and strides over, clapping Bobo’s shoulder in a decidedly friendly matter – except his hand lingers and he stays there, leaning comfortably against Bobo’s side. “You should thank your stars she came around in the end. Or rather, thank me.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that mothers love me!”

Andrea hangs back so Riccardo has time to catch up with him, allowing his bickering friends to walk ahead of them. “Everything OK?”

“This is nice,” Riccardo notes quietly, eyes following the couple in front of them, so comfortable in their physical contact that no one turns to look twice. “I don’t know any other gay couples from the football circles. It’s nice to know we’re not alone in this.”

Andrea wishes he could throw his arm around Riccardo’s shoulders just like Bobo is doing with Pippo as they speak, but they’re not used to such public displays of affection. Maybe one day they will be, once their relationship has reached the respectable two-decade mark as well.

“Did you know there’s a rumour I’m transferring to Bologna?” Riccardo asks suddenly with a playful smirk. “Wanna bet my secret meeting with Pippo will be on tomorrow’s Tuttosport?”

“We should sell that story,” Bobo quips before Andrea can respond. They have stopped to wait for Riccardo and Andrea in front of the restaurant. “Perfect cover for all the future dates.”

“What future dates?” Andrea asks with a raised eyebrow as they follow Bobo’s lead into the private booth waiting for them, “Aren’t you flying back to the US next week?”

“It’s only a flight trip away. I’ll be back in no time!” Bobo bumps his shoulder against Pippo’s jovially, his tone turning gentle, “I’ve got a good reason to come back, after all.”

Andrea feels a spike of— what? Jealousy? Guilt? Regret? He feels like he should apologize to Riccardo for not making time to come visit him in Italy more often, although they both know it’s different when you’re still playing actively.

He can feel Riccardo’s hand slipping into his own under the table. When he looks at his partner, Riccardo only smiles and tells him quietly, “It’s okay. I get it.”

Bobo orders them a round of beers and the moment is gone. They spend the rest of the evening exchanging stories from the good old days, filling Riccardo in on all the best inside jokes of the Azzurri of old. Bobo keeps snapping selfies with his stick, filling his Instagram stories with ‘the boys’ night out’.

Andrea finds himself wondering if it really can be this easy when Bobo crowds them all into a group selfie, Riccardo practically sitting in Andrea’s lap to fit them all into the frame.

Riccardo brushes his lips against the corner of Andrea’s mouth as he moves back to his own seat, with Bobo’s jovial laughter booming all around them.


	12. #24 Shopping (For Fun)

Despite his (rather questionable) position as a celebrated fashion icon, Andrea has never been big on shopping. He also rarely must do it himself, thanks to a handful of smart sponsor deals that guarantee he always gets the latest fashion items delivered to his door without even asking.

“C’mon, Mr. Fabulous, not all of us were blessed with your effortlessly good looks.”

Riccardo, on the other hand, loves touring the big brand stores in Milan and trying on the most outrageous outfits he can get his hands on. It’s not often that he ends up buying something, but according to his own admission, it’s the act of shopping itself that he enjoys, not so much the buying part.

“I mean, it’s not like I need all that stuff. If I buy something, I also want to know I’m going to use it.”

As a result, Andrea’s side of their wardrobe is filled to the brim with all the sponsored outfits he never even has a chance to wear, while Riccardo’s side is carefully hand-picked selection of designer clothes he knows how to mix and match.

“How about this? Too bright?” Riccardo is holding up a sweater that looks like a patchwork made of something Andrea’s grandmother might wear, only it is mixed with pieces of leather and straps with silver buckles. A mischievous smile lights up his face when he sees Andrea’s disgruntled face. “Oh, I’m definitely trying it on.”

Andrea is yet to figure out whether Riccardo’s fashion sense is really that terrible or if he just likes to act like it, because while his actual wardrobe isn’t half bad, he always seems to gravitate towards the most horrible clothes available when out shopping.

“You’re _not_ getting that,” Andrea quips when Riccardo stops on the way to the fitting rooms to try on a fedora that reminds Andrea of old mafia movies. He idly wonders when exactly he ended up as the designated carrier, his arms full while Riccardo’s hands remain free to find new horrors to try on.

“I thought it might look good on you. Ever tried roleplaying?” Riccardo can’t keep a straight face even as he says it. As an extra, Andrea’s mind immediately provides him with a detailed fantasy of what exactly they could do if they were to try roleplaying in the bedroom.

He tries to hand the clothes to Riccardo at the fitting room door, but Riccardo is having none of that. “Just bring it in – I’m gonna need help in here, anyways.”

So, Andrea ends up standing in the surprisingly spacious fitting room, shamelessly watching as Riccardo undresses, before he starts trying on the new clothes one by one. He keeps glancing at Andrea through his lashes, posing like a mannequin with each new outfit, but he doesn’t ask for his opinion out loud, only discarding every new option after a short consideration.

Andrea once again wonders what’s the point of Riccardo’s shopping if he never actually buys anything. The shop owners must hate him for wasting their time.

“Help me out with this.” _This_ meaning the ugly patchwork sweater that apparently has adjustable straps in places you’d never imagine finding them, not to mention a zipper at an angle where it’s practically impossible to reach on your own.

“Why’d you even bother,” Andrea asks, but he closes the distance to help Riccardo put on the monstrosity despite his better judgement.

As soon as he’s close enough to touch, Riccardo’s arms are wound around his neck and their lips brush against each other gently. “Got you.” Riccardo smiles against Andrea’s lips before pulling him into a deeper kiss, the still open straps jangling around him.

Andrea is definitely not protesting, as they spend the next few minutes making out in the fitting room, surrounded by hipster fashion 101. This part of shopping he could get used to.

“What was that for?” Andrea asks when they finally break the kiss and Riccardo steps back, pointing at the sweater he’s still wearing, obviously expecting Andrea to finish what he started before they got distracted. “Not that I minded, of course. Just curious.”

“Just thanking you for being the perfect attentive boyfriend.” Riccardo pecks Andrea’s lips again before allowing him to get back to the straps on the sweater.

“I’m hardly a boy,” Andrea comments dryly, not about to admit that being called Riccardo’s boyfriend still gives him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach after all this time.

“But you are perfect, and attentive, and so very fabulous.” Riccardo is counting the qualities with his fingers as Andrea finishes up with the sweater. It looks even more horrible on Riccardo than it did on its own, if even possible. “And I love you even though you’re boring old grouch who hates shopping.”

“I wouldn’t say I _hate_ it.” Andrea steals another kiss before shooting a pointed glare at the sweater. “Now please, get out of that.”

Riccardo laughs and allows Andrea to unbuckle the straps and open the zipper again, so he can pull the offending garment off. Next, he changes into a cardigan that, while still ugly as fuck, is still much easier to look at than the previous option.

“You know, I was thinking we could go look at some furniture next,” Riccardo says as he poses with the next outfit, arms stretched behind his head. “I’ve been meaning to get a new mattress for ages. And I figured, _it’s your home now, too_.”

Andrea did not expect the fluttery feeling inside his chest when he hears the words. It’s only a fact, after all. But Riccardo saying it out loud still makes it feel just that much more real.

Instead of answering with words, Andrea attacks Riccardo’s lips again. This time, they separate only when a store clerk comes knocking on the door, asking if they need any help with the fitting.


	13. #27 Pets

“It looks like Gigi,” Andrea observes, staring the huge dog in the eyes, even though apparently it’s not something you’re supposed to do even with your own dog, much less with an animal you barely know. “I’m gonna start calling it Gigi.”

“Don’t go teaching him weird things!” Riccardo warns him, but Andrea can hear a smile in his voice, so he doesn’t bother breaking the eye contact with the black Great Dane currently sitting in the middle of their living room.

‘Gigi’ belongs to Riccardo’s brother Luka, and Andrea still has no idea when exactly he agreed to act as a dog-sitter while the said dog’s family is out of town. _“It’ll be fun,”_ Riccardo had said. _“At least you won’t be bored while I’m in Milanello,”_ he had said.

Given, it’s been easy enough when it’s just Andrea and the dog, because ‘Gigi’ practically just sleeps through the days, only bothering to wake up when Riccardo gets back. However, it turns out ‘Gigi’ has become a competitor for Riccardo’s attention whenever he’s home, much to Andrea’s displeasure.

“I know your game,” he tells ‘Gigi’ darkly and points a finger at the dog. ‘Gigi’ responds by licking Andrea’s hand happily. Not quite the reaction he was hoping for, but then again, maybe threatening an animal incapable of human communication wasn’t his best choice to begin with.

“Aww, I see you’ve been bonding,” Riccardo comments cheekily as he walks into the living room. He presses a quick kiss into Andrea’s hair in greeting but then, instead of joining Andrea on the couch, he sits down on the floor cross-legged, inviting the fucking dog to lie down with its head in his lap.

Andrea knows he probably shouldn’t be jealous of a dog, when he was never this worried over Riccardo sleeping with anyone else while he was out of country.

“Yep, that monster’s definitely a Gigi,” Andrea comments aloud when instead of just putting its head on Riccardo’s offered legs like a civilized being, ‘Gigi’ huddles its much too big body completely on top of Riccardo, letting out a satisfied huff only when it manages to fit itself fully into his lap.

“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing,” Riccardo quips, scratching the dog between the ears, not showing any signs of discomfort despite being practically crushed under the overgrown lapdog. “Me and Peppe both happen to like Gigi, don’t we Peppe?”

The dog licks Riccardo’s face. Andrea rolls his eyes at the sight. “It’s a dog, it doesn’t understand you.”

“How rude,” Riccardo aims the comment at ‘Gigi’ – Peppe – whatever – “ _He_ understands me quite perfectly, don’t you Peppe? It’s just uncle Andrea that’s being boring old grouch again.”

What’s up with people and their inability talk normally whenever there are animals or children in vicinity?

“I’m not saving your life when that thing crushes you under its weight.” Andrea gets up from the couch and heads for the kitchen. Damn, he needs a beer after a full day of ‘Gigi’-sitting while Riccardo was out.

He hides in the kitchen much longer than strictly necessary, drinking half of his beer on his own and texting Gigi – the human one, not the dog one – complaining to him about being cock-blocked by a fucking dog, because apparently ‘Gigi’ gets lonely if left alone for the night, and it’s impossible to get into the mood with the hulking figure lurking in the corner of their bedroom.

 _‘You’re being ridiculous,’_ Gigi tells him helpfully, the text followed by a list of emojis Andrea isn’t sure he wants to decipher. _‘Ricky’s been putting up with your kids for years. Stop whining about one week of dog-duty.’_

Andrea kind of wants to point out that Riccardo actually _likes_ kids, always has, while Andrea’s relationship with pets has always been lukewarm at best.

 _‘It’s not even his dog!’_ Andrea replies instead, which is probably not any better.

_‘So take it as a sign of being accepted as part of his family. Much better than what Ricky’s had with you, isn’t it?’_

Figures Gigi’s been talking to Riccardo behind his back. Andrea pockets his phone in frustration. Why are all Gigis scheming against him, humans and dogs alike?

When he walks back into the living room, he finds Riccardo asleep on the floor, head rested in the dog’s short fur. ‘Gigi’ lifts its head when Andrea enters, but makes no other move, like careful not to wake up its new cuddle buddy. Just for a second Andrea feels a certain kinship with the animal – obviously they both have Riccardo’s best interest in mind.

Then he reminds himself that the only thing in ‘Gigi’’s mind is the next feeding time and possibly a list of best ways to make humans do its bidding.

“I’ll be watching you,” he mouths at the dog, not making an actual sound because he doesn’t want to wake up Riccardo just yet, since he obviously needs all the sleep he can get.

He picks up a felt from the armchair and wraps it around Riccardo and the dog. ‘Gigi’ pushes its cold snout against his hands in a surprisingly friendly gesture. Riccardo lets out a soft grumble and tries to snuggle against Andrea’s nearest thigh, obviously only half-asleep, despite all the signs pointing towards the contrary.

“You should go to bed,” Andrea tells him in his softest tone, petting Riccardo’s hair with one hand and the top of ‘Gigi’’s head with another. “You’re gonna be all sore and cranky if you fall asleep here.”

“Love you too, Andrea,” Riccardo mumbles around a massive yawn that pushes its way out of his chest.

They end up going to bed together – all three of them.

Andrea can’t even find it in himself to complain about the dog’s weight crushing his legs when he has a fully-asleep Riccardo pulled inside his arms, relaxed and warm and safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gigi (the human) is officially an overgrown lapdog. I will fight you on this.


	14. #28 Vacation

It’s been seven months since Andrea came back to Italy.

It’s been seven months since they unofficially moved in together, and they’re finally enjoying their first official vacation, just the two of them, far away from their everyday lives.

Andrea can’t think of many better things than waking up to the warm Mediterranean sunshine seeping through the hotel room curtains and making love to the man he loves before either of them utters even a single word, followed by a breakfast in bed courtesy of a five-star room service.

Riccardo is feeding pieces of his scrambled eggs to Andrea between the bites of bacon and assortment of cheeses set out on the small table next to the bed. His hair is damp from the shower they took together before the breakfast arrived, and the sunshine illuminating him from the window behind his back makes him look like an angel with a full-body halo.

“When was the last time I told you you’re gorgeous?” Andrea asks with adoring smile, although he distinctly remembers using those exact words just the night before when they had just checked in, wasting no time in taking advantage of the king-size bed in their suite.

Riccardo raises a knowing eyebrow at him, sipping his cappuccino in silence.

“Well, you are.” Andrea picks up his own espresso and takes a sip, not breaking the eye contact. He has a feeling they won’t be leaving their suite too often during this short getaway, and not only because they need to be cautious of the paparazzi. It’s been too long since he really had Riccardo all to himself for more than half a day at a time.

Andrea’s old ring – the one he gave Riccardo when he left for the US – is hanging on Riccardo’s neck from a simple silver chain. The ring was always too big for his thin fingers, but he never got rid of the jewel regardless. It makes Andrea feel more certain of what he is about to do.

“I have something for you,” he tells quietly, not quite able to hide his nervousness, even though they both must know this has been a long time coming. He reaches out toward the nightstand and pulls out a small box hidden in the drawer the previous night. “I was going to wait until the end of this trip, but—”

He pushes the box into Riccardo’s hands quickly, not quite sure how to finish his sentence. It just feels right, to do this now, after the perfect morning.

“I know we’ve agreed not to talk about marriage and shit,” he starts explaining, words coming out a bit too fast, when Riccardo opens the box and discovers the thin golden ring inside, this time measured according to Riccardo’s own fingers rather than Andrea’s. “But that was before the US. And I just wanted you to know that I’ll be ready, whenever you are. No pressure.”

Riccardo is not saying a word. He takes the ring out of the box and turns it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the simple design. Finally, he slips the band into his ring-finger – his right hand, just inconspicuous enough to pull it off even in public. It fits perfectly.

“Okay,” he whispers in the end, just when Andrea is starting to get nervous again, lifting his gaze up from the ring to meet Andrea’s eyes. If there are tears glistering in Riccardo’s eyes, he is not letting them fall as he smiles shyly and repeats, “Okay, let’s do it. One day. When we’re ready.”

As far as proposals go, Andrea has seen his fair share of flashier ones. But right now, he can’t think of one that would’ve had more impact that this one.

They both know Riccardo can’t come out while he’s still playing – hell, they might never be able to come out publicly, not even after both of them have retired – but at least they now have something to look forward to in the next five, ten, twenty years.

Andrea takes Riccardo’s right hand and pulls it up to his lips, kissing the golden band on his finger. He has a matching one for himself still stashed in his bag, but getting up and finding it right now would mean putting too much space between him and Riccardo, so he stays seated on the bed instead.

“We can get them engraved in one of the shops later today,” he tells Riccardo, contentment filling his entire being when Riccardo offers him another smile that tells him all he needs to know.

Not for the first time – and definitely not the last – Andrea sends his silent thanks to heavens, for letting Riccardo choose him all those years ago, back when Andrea was still too unsure of his own sexuality to see what was right in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm one day behind schedule - social life came in the way of writing - but I've also decided that the best way to finish up this two-timing challenge of mine is to post the final parts of both stories on the last day of month. So, see you tomorrow!


	15. #29 House Cleaning

There are those moments in life when you realize, it’s time to permanently close the door behind one chapter in your life story, to allow the next one to unfold. Be it a decision to leave a club, to file for a divorce, to hang up your boots for good.

To Andrea, there is a certain finality in emptying the house and handing the keys to the realtor, even when he hasn’t actually lived in the said house in years. It’s the house he got for himself when he separated from his wife, which means it’s also the house where he could finally be true to himself and, more importantly, to Riccardo.

But even though selling the house and walking away brings back all those old memories – comfortable nights spent cuddling in bed, mornings when neither of them wanted to say goodbyes and go back to their public lives, stolen moments between flights to and from the US – the feeling of closure is still a happy one, because Riccardo’s house in Milan has become more of a home for him than this house ever was.

“Ready to go?” Riccardo asks quietly, arms wrapping around Andrea’s waist from behind and chin pressed against his shoulder. Andrea realizes only then that he has been staring at his empty living room for at least ten minutes, lost in thought.

All the boxes and furniture have already been moved to Riccardo’s house – no, _their_ house – by a moving company, but they had decided to clean up the place themselves instead of hiring someone to do it, because somehow it had felt right – this was something they needed to do, to make this new step feel more real.

“You know we can still call it off. You haven’t signed any papers yet,” Riccardo continues, obviously taking Andrea’s silence for hesitation. Stupid boy, still so insecure, even after Andrea has assured him repeatedly that he wants to do this – that he doesn’t care even if the whole world finds out about them.

“Don’t be silly,” Andrea huffs out and turns around in Riccardo’s embrace, cupping his face between his hands. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” He kisses Riccardo to stop him from overthinking this. It is a simple decision for Andrea, and Riccardo should have no reason to doubt it.

“Let’s go home,” he whispers against Riccardo’s lips, and he can feel smile light up his partner’s face in response.

“Yeah, let’s go home,” Riccardo repeats and accepts another kiss from Andrea before they head out.

The keys stay behind, sitting innocently on the kitchen counter, as if this move was not the one that will change both their lives forever – hopefully for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after, out and proud. Or at least they would have, if this was the perfect world.
> 
> Thank you everyone who read this, left kudos, or commented! You're amazing and I love you!


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